


this fury runs wild and deep

by anorchidisnotaflower



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Canon Compliant, M/M, Season/Series 04, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27373255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anorchidisnotaflower/pseuds/anorchidisnotaflower
Summary: It’s the type of proximity Odis never allows himself. The last time he got this close to anyone, he got a black eye out of the deal, and based on the way things are going, he suspects Deafy’ll throw the first punch.Or the scene from 4x07 with a twist.
Relationships: Dick "Deafy" Wickware/Odis Weff
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	this fury runs wild and deep

**Author's Note:**

> All of my fics are self-indulgent, but this one really takes the cake. Kudos to [winterwinterwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwinterwinter) and to the original dialogue from Fargo 4x07, "Lay Away."

Deafy climbs in the car, and that’s when Odis’ afternoon goes from bad to terrible in an easy, downward bend. He really should have expected this— Deafy is nothing if not persistent, and his ability to turn up like the worst penny in the lot is starting to grate on Odis, more even than the weight of the Faddas and the Cannons on his back.

Then Deafy starts quoting some Mormon bullshit and Odis could just about scream. It takes all his efforts not to, but Deafy just has to wheedle, to poke, to prod at him like ants under a rock.

“No secrets in the Kansas City PD,” Deafy is saying. “But you know all that.”

The air in the car turns, sour and sick in Odis’ throat.

“Yeah,” Odis manages. “Sure, I heard of him.”

“That’s like Jonah saying he heard there’s a big fish out there somewhere,” Deafy says, his lips sliding up in a slow half-smile.

Odis looks away, trying to tune him out. Deafy keeps talking, though — something about his fugitives again, Odis is more than tired of hearing about them — and then he makes a proposition.

“What do you say, cowboy?” Deafy asks. “Want to go in, guns blazing? Take ‘em down together?”

It’s so sudden that Odis almost considers saying yes for a moment. To say fuck it, sure, and die like a man when he’s never had an ounce of courage to his name.

“I…” Odis stutters, unable to drag the affirmative out from where it’s buried in his gut.

“Relax,” Deafy sighs, turning away. “They’d chew us up for sure.”

Deafy is right, but Odis wishes he wasn’t.

“And yet…” Deafy pauses. “Are you familiar with the blood atonement?”

Odis meets Deafy’s stare, ready for whatever holier-than-thou nonsense he’s going to throw his way this time.

What Odis doesn’t expect is the wide eyes, the unseeing stare, the sudden heat that’s directed right toward him, the kind that could burn a man’s heart right out the back of his chest. The words blood-covered daggers, careful and unbalanced at once.

There’s nothing good he can say to any of that.

“I ain’t heard that one, no,” Odis mutters, tearing his eyes away. He can’t quite shake off the burning, and Deafy’s still looking at him like _that_ , like he wants to rip him apart and sew him back together all wrong.

“He talked about you, too,” Deafy says, tone balanced on a blade’s edge. “Little birdie.”

The stupid nickname is what makes Odis give in. He turns, and that glare is back on him, a spotlight on all his mistakes. Deafy’s a freight train that can’t be stopped, and his accusations rumble quick and terrible down the tracks.

“Said you fill your pockets, just like the rest of ‘em, and you fly your crooked line,” Deafy snaps. “Is that true?”

The question makes Odis pause. Why the hell would he ask if he already knows?

Odis tries a new tactic, one he knows Deafy will fall for. “What’d you say to me?”

Deafy takes the bait, his fury brimming under the surface turned to a boil. “No. That’s my trick. You heard me just fine.”

Odis scoffs. Now, if he can just get Deafy angry enough to storm out, they’ll be done. His curse of the marshal will be lifted, and that’ll be some balm for the wounds Odis knows are ahead.

“See,” Deafy says, fired up again, “I can’t help but think you’ve been yanking my chain for weeks now ‘cause your bread is buttered on the other side.”

And Odis can’t stand when folks get it all wrong, and boy, does Deafy have it backward.

“You know what you are?” Odis hisses. “You’re a fucking curse.”

“Language.”

Odis growls, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. This guy, this _guy_ …

“You listen to me, slick,” Odis says, pressing forward. “If I knew where your Mormon God was, I’d drive through the night and I’d stab him in the fucking eyes.”

Odis takes a breath, waiting for Deafy’s reaction, for the slap, the yell, the slammed car door. The storm he wants, the storm he needs to get Deafy out of his hair and his life.

But it never comes. Deafy just smiles at him, that smug, stupid thing that’s stuck to his face like a bad Halloween mask.

“You proud of yourself for that one?” Deafy asks.

Odis looks away, slamming one hand on the wheel. “You— you are infuriating, you know that?”

“I’ve heard better comments from my superiors.” Deafy tips his hat back. “But that’s something I’ve been told before, yes.”

“You’re a nuisance,” Odis continues, unable to stop. “A fucking thorn in my side since the day you showed up, and now you won’t take the hint and leave.”

Deafy laughs. “Why would I leave my partner?”

“I’m not—” Odis throws his hands up. “I’m not your goddamned partner!”

“You were assigned to me just a handful of weeks ago.”

“Assigned? I think we’re way past assigned, buddy,” Odis snarls.

Deafy raises an eyebrow. “So it’s true? You’re a dirty cop?”

“Fuck,” Odis says, “you.”

“Not what I was looking to hear, but I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Why would you go to all the trouble of asking me if you already knew?” Odis leans in. “Huh?”

Deafy just shrugs. “Simple curiosity. And I like to confirm for myself when someone I trusted has been lying to me.”

“I haven’t—” Odis looks away, tapping his brow. “You’re poking into places where you don’t belong.”

“I’d say you’re doing the same thing,” Deafy points. “Hands in pies that weren’t made for hands.”

“What, you telling me you’ve never done one terrible thing in your life?” Odis asks.

Deafy thinks for a moment, tilting his head. “Nope.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Language. How many times—”

“Shut up,” Odis interrupts. “There isn’t one little mistake you’ve made? One throwaway decision that came back to bite you on the ass?”

Deafy stares at him, and that’s when Odis realizes how close he’s gotten. He’s leaning into Deafy’s side of the car, not quite looming over him, and his hand is balanced on the curve of the seat right next to Deafy’s shoulder.

It’s the type of proximity Odis never allows himself. The last time he got this close to anyone, he got a black eye out of the deal, and based on the way things are going, he suspects Deafy’ll throw the first punch.

If it gets Deafy to leave, Odis will try anything.

“Come on, marshal,” Odis taunts. “Never done anything selfish?”

Deafy bites his lip, his eyes traveling down Odis’ arm to his hand, balanced so precariously close. “Well, when you put it like that… there’s one thing.”

“Yeah?” Odis asks, daring to lean in a little closer. “How’s that?”

Deafy tilts his chin up— a challenge. “Why don’t you solve it for yourself, detective?”

Odis huffs, taking in Deafy’s bitter smile, the easy way he moves up to meet Odis, their chests just inches away from each other. It doesn’t take a detective to interpret a look like that, all careful ploy and fiery distraction. Odis has seen plenty of similar eyes in clubs across town, basement bars and alley doorways, but Deafy has an edge to him those men were missing.

“You a sinner, Wickware?” Odis asks. The words hang in the air— a shot fired back.

“Not yet, I ain’t,” Deafy growls, and then he roughly grabs Odis’ collar, dragging him in.

Even if Odis expected it, Deafy’s lips on his is a shock to his system, a quick rewiring of everything he knew about Deafy thrown out the car window. Deafy kisses like no other man Odis has ever been with, that righteous fury translating into every bruising press, each movement of his lips an argument they haven’t resolved.

Odis hates how easy he falls into it, his hand slipping from the seat to knock Deafy’s hat off his head and tangle in his hair. His eyes closed, Odis feels everything— Deafy’s hand tight on his waist, the heated press of Deafy’s chest on his, the desperate rhythm their lips find against each other.

“I fucking hate you,” Odis breathes, pulling at Deafy’s hair.

“Do that again,” Deafy sighs, and they meet in the middle, pushing into each other’s spaces like the walls are closing in around them. The only sound is their labored breaths, stuttering in a music all their own, and that’s when Odis gets the bright idea to nip at Deafy’s bottom lip.

It gets him the response he wanted. Deafy surges forward, forcing Odis’ back up against the door, his lips dragging along Odis’ jaw. Odis just hangs on for dear life, the door handle digging into his spine.

And suddenly Odis remembers that they’re in a car in broad daylight, parked just a block away from the Cannons’ base of operations. He shoves Deafy away.

“There’s— we’re—” Odis gestures around them at the windows, but he can’t stop staring at Deafy’s lips, red and a little swollen.

“The back seat’s as good a place as any,” Deafy smirks. “Hidden enough away from any prying eyes.”

Odis blinks. “Are you actually suggesting—”

And then Deafy startles back to himself, shaking his head sharply. The mischievous light in his eyes snaps off, and the U.S. marshal comes back, all rigid posture and averted eyes.

“Shoot,” Deafy curses. “We shouldn’t be here.”

Odis just nods as he watches Deafy pull himself together, running a hand through his hair and throwing his hat on. Odis gently feels the top of his own head and realizes his hat tumbled off at some point into the backseat. Deafy’s handiwork, no doubt, and _shit_ , Deafy did that, they did that, and Odis counts off in quick succession, onetwothreefourfive.

“Shit,” Odis whispers. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“You can say that again, partner,” Deafy mutters, his hand on the door. He stops, though, to look Odis in the eye, and Odis sees everything they won’t say hidden there— the argument they’re still having, the strange new tug between them, the fact that Deafy is a Mormon priest who just spit in the face of the Good Book like it was another Tuesday afternoon.

“I’m…” Odis wants to apologize, but he really, really doesn’t.

“I’ll see you again,” Deafy says, quieter than he’s been all day. “If I come up with anything else.”

Odis nods, still dazed. “You do that.”

And then Deafy is out the door, slamming it behind him, and Odis is wondering what in the goddamned hell that all was about.


End file.
